


War Games: Landfall

by Etrius_Lloyd



Category: Halo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 19:05:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4533651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Etrius_Lloyd/pseuds/Etrius_Lloyd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Halo free for all pvp with my Clan. I tried gathering up all their individual traits and insert them in to the story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	War Games: Landfall

After the Covenant glassing of Reach, the UNSC had begun developing a new Spartan training program using a combination of virtual and augmented reality to create a hyper-advanced combat simulator. In theory, the program would have been able to advance even the freshest cannon fodder to the level of the corps' most experienced veterans in a matter of weeks without any casualties. Fourteen months after development had started, the UNSC succeeded.

The end product was named ‘War Games’.

§

The world was burning. Covenant ships infested the sky, silently gliding over the city as they engulfed it with amethyst waterfalls of pure energy, scorching the surface until it was but glass. Slowly it all fell, crumbling down as the screams of millions reached every corner of every street. It was doomed, all of it. Yet amidst the blazing buildings and plasma fire, a single Spartan moved through the streets with determined strides. That Spartan had been designated 626 by the UNSC, but his comrades simply called him Lloyd.

Donned in Mark VII GUNGNIR Assault Armor, the orange Spartan moved fast and focused, blind to the destruction of yet another human world. After all, he knew it was nothing more than images and sensations uploaded directly into his brain. No. The only thing Lloyd had eyes for was the red dot moving across his motion tracker. He was catching up.

The chase led him to the police station, where the officers of the law had seen it fit to abandon the building completely, for whatever reason. Lloyd quickly checked his motion tracker again. The dot was indeed inside the station but had stopped moving and soon vanished. It looked like whatever was inside knew he was coming.

The Spartan glanced at the ammo count on his gun's display. 24 rounds left. It would have to do. He numbed his mind to everything except for the excitement coursing through him like electricity, and then stormed inside, gun at the ready. But there was no blood to spill. The hall was empty. That's when he noticed the blinking light nailed into a piece of wall right next to his face.

“Son of a-”

§

Spartan PPP ‘Phil’ failed to hold back a grin as he pulled the trigger and detonated the explosive charge. A thundering blast shook the building, and a cloud of dust and debris blew past the corner he had been hiding behind. Then his victory was broadcasted at the bottom of his HUD.

“Better luck next time, buddy,” he chuckled while loading another charge into the launcher, and moved on.

Phil loved the War Games. Violence without consequence. Sure, the project had met with opposition, arguing that soldiers shouldn't be trained for war without causalities, to treat it as a game instead of atrocity, and maybe they were right… But none of that changed the fact that the next Spartan to enter his sights was going to get shot in the face. Or the crotch. Or both! Choices, choices…

Barely had Phil exited the station when he spotted this baby blue Spartan quickly crossing the street. It was Razzy, unmistakably so; Phil would recognize that color armor from miles away.

Biting down his lip, he aimed for half a second before firing a sticky charge at his comrade. But instead attaching itself, the charge passed right through the Spartan's back, which then flickered as if it were a- 

“Hologram?” Phil hissed. “Shit!”

Out of nowhere a hand grabbed him by the shoulder, and delivered a white-hot pain to his back.

§

The energy sword passed through both Phil's back- and chest plate like a hot knife through butter, and the cyan Spartan crumpled onto the streets, his crimson war stripes growing dim in the shade.

“Gets 'em every time,” the blue Spartan delighted, blissfully aware of his armor's hologram ability. Spartan RAZ ‘Razzy’ was the only Spartan on UNSC record who had requested that his armor be died Baby Blue. His demands were met. When asked about his choice he merely stated that it was to serve as a ‘massive fuck you’ towards the Covenant. Also, that it made him feel ‘pretty’.

A sound like thunder rumbled and something stirred in the sky above. Razzy watched, curious, as a shooting star flew past the Covenant Cruisers and crashed into the intersection ahead. Upon inspection Razzy found out his shooting star was actually a large, metal canister, and at his touch the object split open and offered up an M41 SSR Rocket Launcher.

Razzy grinned at what had to be an early birthday present. The only thing missing was a bow.

§

Spartan SAK ‘Baldy’ heard the explosion in the distance at the same time he received the message saying Spartan RAZ had committed suicide by explosion.

“Razzy down,” he chuckled, and finished reloading his trusty shotgun. A quick glance at the terrain outside of the warehouse told him the coast was clear, and Baldy stepped outside and underneath the Covenant-filled sky. Not three seconds later a storm of bullets began whistling over his head.

In one, insane motion Baldy threw himself against a nearby wall and activated his Hardlight shield. Not a moment too soon; the wall of blue light appeared just as the lead began finding its mark. Hundreds upon hundreds of bullets smashed into his shield, ricochet destroying anything in a ten feet radius. But the blue light soon turned to red as mangled lead started piling up at his feet.

This was bad! He had to do something. Fast. Where was it coming from? Above? A turret? There! On the balcony! Baldy drew a grenade just as the shield failed.

§ 

 It was with some involvement that Spartan SA5 ‘Smoke’ stared at the crumpled suit of armor slumped down against the bullet-riddled wall. Was killing Spartans instead of Elites wrong? he pondered. Humans fighting humans instead of Covenant? Was it immoral and unjust to kill one's own kind for sport? Probably… Yet Smoke could honestly say that he didn't give two craps about that. The only way to become stronger was by fighting strong opponents, and there were no finer opponents than the Spartans he called friends. No Elite or Promethean Knight would've been able to react as fast as poor Baldy just had. Not that it had helped him much… Oh well.

Setting aside such useless thoughts, the silver Spartan patted the mounted gun on its red-hot barrel, and then tore it off its tripod with near ease.

“Time to do some damage,” he grinned, just before his visor shattered.

§

Spartan STU ‘Stuart’'s heart jumped in his chest as he watched through the scope of his Sniper Rifle how Smoke keeled over with a brand new hole in his face.

“Oh! I got one!” he gasped, forgetting in his excitement that a sniper must always move after a kill. And indeed, even before the shot's echo had faded away the orange energy of a Promethean Light Rifle whirred past his helmet.

“Oh shite!” Without a moment of hesitation Stuart jumped off the crane and began a three story plummet. Concrete cracked underneath his steel boots, and hydraulics hissed to compensate for the landing. But he wasn't out of danger yet. Fast as he could Stuart dashed across the street and into Bay V, where he ran into a Spartan black as the night swinging a Gravity Hammer over his head.

§

The hammer struck the grey Spartan square in the chest and caved in his breastplate, probably shattering every rib he had, before smashing him through the wall. Spartan 666 ‘Plague’ grunted softly as he pulled free his hammer, and gave it an approving pat.  
Still, there was some guilt gnawing at him. Stuart was a close friend and kind soul; killing him never felt… fun. Still, a kill is a kill, and he wasn't planning on losing this match.

Empowered by his victory Plague ran up the stairs, hoping to encounter a new foe in the Bay's tight hallways, but his motion tracker showed no nearby activity. What a shame. All this destructive power and no one to crush with it.

Out of nowhere something hit the back of his knee as a hand grabbed and pulled his shoulder. Plague fell down his back and had just enough time to see the transparent shape looming over him.

§

The knife pierced Plague's throat easily and reached all the way into his spinal cord, killing him instantly. The Gravity Hammer slipped out of his lifeless hands and clattered onto the floor. Spartan COK ‘Brom’ decloaked next to his comrade, cheerfully humming as he reclaimed his knife. That was a good kill. Even Plague himself would have to agree with him on that.

After his cloaking ability had recharged itself, Brom exited Bay IV, making his way across what used to be a square at one point, but Covenant plasma had turned the lot of it into a smoldering crater. There a burst of gunfire drew his attention, and further ahead he could spot a lone Spartan emptying his clip at something inside an alley. Time to get social! Brom activated his cloak and dashed across the street, his knife gripped tightly in his hand. This was going to be good.

§

Out of nowhere this bright pink Spartan slammed into the front of the Warthog, and was catapulted over the windshield like a ragdoll, nearly causing Spartan D13 ‘Drup’ to lose control of the wheel.

“Son of a bitch!” Durp shouted, fighting to regain grip on the road. “Where the shit did you come from?!” But in the end he won the struggle with his Warthog and kept racing through the street, though twice as alert.

“Goddamn cloakers,” he muttered, while heading for docks. Running someone over wasn't nearly as fun when you didn't even know they were there in the first place. But perhaps he could find another one of those clowns to add a matching dent on the other side of the hood. The best plans were usually the simplest ones.

Oh! There! Further ahead a figure was crossing the street. Durp hit the gas and sent his engine roaring like a beast. “Come on you!” he bellowed. “Let's see what color you bleed!”

But Durp would never find out. A blinding flash of green blew up his engine, and sent the molten glass of his windshield splattering into his visor. Drup knew he was screwed even before the Warthog toppled over and crashed into the wall.

§

Spartan BST ‘Beesting’ fired two more round from his Fuel Rod Cannon at the flipped-over vehicle, and made short work of Durp's attempted vehicular manslaughter. The emerald explosion reflected in his visor and the purple Spartan nodded approvingly, his golden war stripes catching the setting sun.

Allowing himself a moment to enjoy his handiwork, Beesting couldn't help but smile. He hadn't had this much fun since they attempted adding flamethrowers to the Oddball simulation, which had ended up getting them grounded for a week. Ah, good times…

Tchwick.

 _Tchwick?_ Beesting looked to inspect the source of the strange sound and found a blue ball of fire roughly the size of a tennis ball stuck to his right shoulder, whirring dangerously.

“God Fucking-”

§

Attracted by all the explosions Lloyd peeked over the edge of the rooftop and found a Spartan standing next to the burning wreckage of what used to be a Warthog. It could have been Beesting - hard to tell from that distance - looking very pleased with himself and all epic like. Well, every idiot could blow up another idiot with a Fuel Rod Cannon. But could he do _this_?

Lloyd leaned over the edge as far as he could, biting down his tongue while pretending to do any real calculations. Then he pressed the button and let go of the Plasma Grenade. It fell for a bit and then attached itself right on target. Yes!  
With glee, and no small amount of pride, Lloyd watched his friend go up in a bright burst of blue fire. That was going to up his score nicely. Maybe he could pull that off again…

But no such luck. Somewhere in the back of his mind a voice declared that the match would end in sixty seconds. Already?! Boy… Play time was over. If he hurried he might be able to get back at Phil, blast a hole through his face.

Lloyd nodded purposefully while his Binary Gun assembled itself in his hands, and scouted the streets through its scope, unaware of the little red laser that had settled in the middle of his chest, growing brighter by the second.


End file.
